Imagine the scene of World War II: destruction, death, and suffering everywhere. Thousands were murdered in gas chambers, while others slowly succumbed to hunger and disease. Daily life was steeped in pain, fear, and despair, in a time when human life seemed to have no value.

It was in this context that George Legmann was born — the first of seven babies who came into the world in 1944 inside the Dachau concentration camp in Germany.

Legmann’s parents were from Transylvania, a region contested between Hungary and Romania. During the war, Hungary aligned itself with Hitler’s Axis and was rewarded with Northern Transylvania, previously part of Romania. This annexation had tragic consequences: the Jewish community was subjected to antisemitic policies and deported to concentration camps.

In the regional capital — called Cluj-Napoca in Romanian, Kolosvár in Hungarian, and Klausenburg in German — Jews were gathered in an old brick factory chosen for its proximity to the railway. From there, in cattle wagons originally meant for livestock, they were sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau, the largest Nazi extermination camp. Among them were Legmann’s relatives: his maternal uncle, grandfather, and grandmother. The uncle, only 16 years old and weakened by a foot infection, was sent directly to the gas chambers, as was the grandfather.

Dachau and the Seven Births

The Dachau camp had around 154 subcamps, where prisoners were strictly controlled. In one of these, a doctor found seven pregnant women. When he asked Auschwitz for instructions, the reply was that he could “do as he wished,” since Soviet troops were advancing and the Nazis were trying to cover up their crimes.

In December 1944, George Legmann was born. A few months later, in April 1945, Dachau was liberated by Allied forces.

The doctor who discovered the pregnant women allowed them to live, and gave them fifty cans of condensed milk so their babies could survive. This gesture weighed heavily in his trial: instead of the death penalty, he was sentenced to eight to ten years in prison.

Among the prisoners was Hungarian Jewish gynecologist Dr. Kovács, who assisted all the mothers during childbirth. Legmann’s mother, after giving birth, helped the doctor with the other deliveries.

Baby Leslie nearly did not survive: his mother contracted typhus and the placenta would not detach. In a decisive intervention, the doctor managed to save his life. Miriam, his mother, showed immense resilience and courage, becoming the last of those women to pass away.

A New Beginning in Brazil

After escaping the Holocaust, one of Legmann’s uncles left Romania and, passing through Bulgaria and Germany, found a newspaper advertisement for a chocolate factory in São Paulo seeking a master chocolatier. With experience from his father’s old factory, he applied and was invited to work in Brazil. In 1960, thanks to a diplomatic agreement negotiated by Chancellor Santiago Dantas, fifty Romanian families were able to legally emigrate to the country — among them, Legmann’s family. They arrived in São Paulo and started literally from scratch, but with the chance to rebuild their lives in safety.

This story will be presented for the first time in a world exhibition at the Federal Senate in Brasília on March 3. It will then move to the Holocaust Memorial in São Paulo on April 13, and in July will be displayed at Catavento Cultural, which receives up to 90,000 visitors per month. A partnership is also underway with Fiesp, reaching around 140 SESI schools in São Paulo.

Record TV produced a report on this story (Portuguese):

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)